


Stars

by cat_77



Series: Flufftober 2018 [9]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 20:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16249469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_77/pseuds/cat_77
Summary: He counted them as he counted his own breaths, steadied himself against their millennia of strength.  He traced out patterns with his eyes, created runes out of their light.





	Stars

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt of “stars.”
> 
> * * *

Alec stormed away from the meeting room. At least two Nephilim tried to stop him to ask him something undoubtedly pressing, but he really didn’t have the time for them right now. A shake of his head, the most thunderous look he could manage, and they backed away, possibly in fear.

He made it to his office and closed the door with a decent amount of force. He leaned up against it and closed his eyes. Finally, away from the others, he let his breath come in harsh pants. His heart was pounding in his chest, but it wasn’t with anger like everyone else seemed to think. Fear. Hopelessness. Panic. Those were the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

He tried so hard, gave this alliance everything he had, and was shut down at every turn. Not by the Downworlders - most of those understood what he was trying to do even if most thought he didn’t have a chance at success. It was the Clave. It was his own people. They undermined him, belittled him, would point out every possible error, every possible way he would fail what they deemed to be his people. They brought up missions from the past and railed that they were only options for the future. Change would equate failure. 

They told him he wasn’t good enough. They told him he didn’t know what he was talking about. They told him he was blinded by the dirty magics he surrounded himself with. They told him the old ways had held for this long and they would hold for so much longer.

The problem was, they weren’t wrong. 

He wasn’t good enough. He needed help. He needed support. He needed others to see his vision for the future and help him achieve it. There were some who might be swayed, but they feared the Clave, feared their power, feared the disgrace they might bring their family name should they side against the ruling body.

Alec had already disgraced that name. His father had said as much. Not to his face, but he knew how to read between the lines, pick up on the sour glances and subtle alliances. His father sided with the Clave. Of that he was certain. If he couldn’t sway his own family, his own flesh and blood, what chance did he have with anyone else?

His vision dimmed, grew gray around the edges. He stumbled away from the door towards the couch on the far side of the room. He just needed a moment. Just needed to get past this. Just needed... something.

He barely registered the snick of the door opening and the click as it closed again. He whipped around to tell whoever it was to leave, that now was not the time. His world tilted at that and he feared he had shown his weakness to all.

Instead, he found himself held in deceptively strong hands. There was the scent of sandalwood and the almost sweetness of the product Magnus used to style his hair just so. 

“Breathe, Alexander,” a voice that warmed a part of him that he hadn’t even realized had grown cold directed. “In. Out. In again.”

“I...” he managed between pants for air. There wasn’t enough of it though, not in the stuffy claustrophobic place he called an office. Possibly not in the Institute as a whole.

And then suddenly there was.

He felt a cool breeze on his face, the way the wind tugged at strands of his hair. There was the sharp tang of salt and what should have been carpet over hardwood shifted beneath his dress shoes.

“Breathe,” Magnus directed again. This time he found the task to be far simpler.

A few more pants and he managed to open his eyes again. When he was able to look past the concerned visage of his lover, he saw only miles of sand and the glint of something in the moonlight, heard only the gentle crash of the waves and the far away toll of what might have been a church bell and what could have been a boat too far off to see.

Magnus lowered him to a blanket magically laid out precisely where they needed it, helped him sit down and continued to guide him until he felt like the tight band had been severed from his chest, felt like his hands wouldn’t shake if he dared to look at them.

“Better?” Magnus asked, but he shook his head. He wasn’t. Not yet. Though the fact he knew he wouldn’t be judged for even that weakness did help. “Look up,” whispered words directed, and he complied without a thought.

Above him were stars. Hundreds if not thousands of them. The sky was clear save for the slightest wisps of clouds far off to his left, which only served to highlight what might have been the Milky Way itself off to his right. They shone bright against the moonless night, the twinkle of them reflected in the waves below.

He counted them as he counted his own breaths, steadied himself against their millennia of strength. He traced out patterns with his eyes, created runes out of their light.

“Better?” Magnus asked again, and this time he nodded.

Here he could breathe. Here his responsibilities didn’t suffocate him. Here asked nothing of him and gave so much in return.

“Someday, you’ll have to tell me where this is,” he whispered. It seemed sacrilege to disturb the peace of the moment.

“Someday,” Magnus agreed.

After another breath, another rune drawn against the cosmos, he asked, “Don’t the owners wonder why two strangers portal in and watch the stars in the middle of the night?” He had seen the shadows of a villa behind them before they left last time and had questioned their use of the place ever since.

“You really think if didn’t buy it the moment I saw the way it gave you peace?” Magnus scoffed in return. He barely had time to contemplate that before Magnus cut into his thoughts and said, “He is proud of you, you know. So many are. They are working from within, working in your vision and your name, while you stand as the standard under which the movement gathers. Unfortunately, that also means you stand as whipping boy against those who oppose the movement.”

“I wish I had your faith in that,” Alec sighed.

“One day you will,” Magnus replied, the surety of his words granting him a strength he didn’t want to admit he needed.

He glanced at his watch and knew they needed to go back. He had declared only an hour’s break before the return to the chaos. He stood and gazed upwards, took the power of the runes against the stars into his heart to face the next several hours of frustration.

A blink and they were in his office again. He opened the door and found Jace waiting there with a sandwich and coffee and took it wordlessly, downed them both on his way back to the meeting room. He let the other two trail behind him and pretended that he didn’t hear it when his parabatai thanked his lover.

“Whatever for?” Magnus asked, aloof as ever.

“He smells like the sea again,” Jace replied before taking his place at Alec’s side.

Alec wanted to correct him, but held back as everyone needed their solace. It hadn’t been the sea that he took into himself, but the stars. 

Maybe someday Jace would understand. 

Maybe someday Alec himself would.


End file.
